


beneath the milky twilight

by LadyMerlin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Communication, Cottage core, Crossdressing, Don't Post To Another Site, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Kink Exploration, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Victuuri Summer Loving, pre-wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-09 22:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20517461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: Oddly enough, it’s when Yuuri says his full name that Viktor feels a shiver run down his spine. Affectionate nicknames are sweet and fun, but there’s something about the way Yuuri says his name that makes it special; with a particular gravity, like he’s keeping it safe in his mouth or something. Viktor is a skater and not a poet, but sometimes Yuuri makes him want to be.





	beneath the milky twilight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewalrus_said](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/gifts).

> This was written for the Victuuri Summer Loving Gift Exchange 2019! I know the prompt was wedding preparation but no matter how hard I tried, all I could think of was how disappointed Viktor would be that neither he nor Yuuri could wear a wedding dress (so much more drama than a plain old tuxedo!), and this is where we ended up. Thewalrus_said, I hope you like it!

Yuuri is a creature of air and brightness, and prefers to fill the space with music and light, with the radio a low hum in the background and a cheerful stream of chatter with Makkachin, lying on a rug nearby, looking like she's listening to every word. After a long day at the rink, Viktor is not expecting to come home to a quiet apartment. It’s Yuuri’s day off and he hadn’t mentioned any other plans, so Viktor had been expecting - well. 

The silence is so unusual that a bolt of fear pierces his heart, and bizarre thoughts of Yuuri leaving him run amok through his head, even though Viktor knows Yuuri loves him almost as much as he loves Yuuri, and he’d never leave Viktor. Not like that. 

He drops his keys on the table and locks the front door, but doesn't bother turning the lights on. The apartment feels eerily like it used to before he met Yuuri and he feels achingly lonely all of a sudden. "Makka, Yuuri," he calls, but receives no answer. Maybe Yuuri has taken Makka for a walk? 

"In the bedroom, Vitya," comes Yuuri's voice from the bedroom, dashing that idea. His heart rate increases and he feels a pearl of trepidation in the base of his throat. He knows nothing bad has happened, but he can’t help worry anyway. 

"Is everything ok, sweetheart?" he asks, dropping his wallet and keys in a small glass bowl and toeing off his shoes near the door - a concession to Yuuri's sensibilities. Yuuri must hear something in Viktor's voice that gives away his anxiety because the door cracks open and casts golden light into the hallway. 

"Everything's fine, Vitya, just come here. I have something for you." Viktor obeys, because nothing bad has ever come from trusting Yuuri, and he has faith that this time won’t be any different. 

The sight that greets him makes his knees go weak. 

Yuuri is perched on the side of their bed, dressed in a simple white gown that trails all the way down to his mangled toes. It’s made of a thin, gossamer-like fabric which clings to Yuuri’s body, and shows off everything from the softness of his hips to the pertness of his nipples. It’s suspended by thin straps that are slip off Yuuri's shoulders when he shivers under Viktor’s gaze. 

Viktor, whose heart is pounding like he just completed an Olympic routine.

Viktor doesn’t know what Yuuri sees in his gaze, but whatever it is makes a rosy-pink flush travel all the way down his neck and his chest, down to where the bust of the dress sits low on Yuuri’s chest. Viktor wants to know whether it goes even further down. 

"_Solnshyko_," Viktor murmurs when he can find the words, because Yuuri is radiant, and shining, and the source of all the warmth in his entire world. "Darling, what is this?" He asks without thinking. 

Yuuri ducks his head and Viktor notices that he’s not wearing glasses when they don’t slide down his nose with the movement. Yuuri is adorable with glasses, more darling than Viktor ever thought anyone could possibly look. But without them Yuuri looks devastatingly sexy, his enormous eyes framed by unfairly thick lashes. 

Yuuri looks up at him through said lashes, coyly. "You wanted one of us to wear a wedding dress," he replies, referring to a whim of Viktor's from a few months before. "I couldn't make that happen for the wedding…” he trails off, hooking his thumb in one strap and tugging it back onto his shoulder, “but I could do this." 

Viktor staggers the few feet from the doorway to the bed and sinks to his knees in front of Yuuri. His knees won’t thank him for it, but he doesn’t care. He wraps a hand around Yuuri's ankle and lifts it into his lap, caressing the delicate bones of Yuuri's foot. There is no reason Viktor should think of them as fragile, not when he knows how strong they are, but he supposes it’s a metaphor for the whole of Yuuri. He’s so much stronger than he looks. 

"You indulge me so much, my darling." 

"It's hardly an indulgence if I want it too, Vitya," Yuuri murmurs, leaning down and cupping his cheek with a gentle hand, tilting his face up so they can make eye contact. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Viktor.” Oddly enough, it’s when Yuuri says his full name that Viktor feels a shiver run down his spine. Affectionate nicknames are sweet and fun, but there’s something about the way Yuuri says his name that makes it special; with a particular gravity, like he’s keeping it safe in his mouth or something. Viktor is a skater and not a poet, but sometimes Yuuri makes him want to be. 

Viktor doesn't embarrass himself with any more words and instead lifts Yuuri's foot just enough that he can bend and kiss it. Yuuri’s fingers tighten on the edge of the mattress but he doesn’t say anything as the dress slides back, rasping like silk over his freshly shaved skin. Viktor drags his lips from the top of Yuuri’s foot to his ankle and then further up his calf, brushing past stray hairs Yuuri must have missed while shaving. 

He reaches all the way up to Yuuri’s knee before he finally confesses, "I don't know what to do.” He would never have admitted it to anyone other than Yuuri, but he’s utterly overwhelmed. Yuuri cups his face with trembling hands. 

"Would you like to see the rest of the dress?" Yuuri asks, sounding a hundred times more confident than Viktor. It comforts him more than he could ever express, to know that Yuuri is sure of them, of this. Viktor nods and sinks back onto his heels when Yuuri stands up. He lets himself be helped up. 

Yuuri kisses his hand where their fingers are interlaced and doesn’t let go as he turns slowly. In all honesty, Viktor hadn’t noticed much about the dress until now, and what he sees is - it’s dizzying. 

The sweetheart neckline of the dress makes Yuuri look like he has cleavage even though Viktor knows he doesn’t. The bodice follows the line of his body closely all the way down to his hips, where it flares out gently into a wide skirt. It’s not the fanciest dress Viktor has ever seen, but it’s the most beautiful one, for sure, and it has everything to do about the person who’s wearing it.

As Yuuri turns, Viktor sees the back of the dress which cuts a dramatic line, culminating in a straight line of shiny buttons that leads all the way down the curve of Yuuri’s ass, revealing yards of pale creamy skin on Yuuri's back. Viktor has seen Yuuri's back before, many many times, but he can't help but touch, but to trail his hand from the nape of Yuuri's neck down his spine and to his ass. 

“Do you like it?” Yuuri asks, shivering under his touch, voice low and tremulous. 

Viktor tries very hard to find the words to describe how much he likes it, but after a number of attempts, all he can say is, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri looks at him over his shoulder. “Have you decided what you want to do?” 

Viktor swallows hard and nods. “Can I fuck you?” He asks, pressing his palm flat against the small of Yuuri’s back. “Just like this? With the dress?” 

Yuuri nods without even an ounce of hesitation. “Yes, of course. Any way you like, Vitya.” 

The words are incendiary and Viktor has to ramp down hard on a shudder that wracks his spine. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

Yuuri doesn’t respond with words, instead turning his body to face Viktor and leaning up on tiptoes to press their mouths together, opening for Viktor softly when he licks Yuuri’s lips. What starts as a soft kiss quickly turns hard and hot, and Viktor slides his hand around the back of Yuuri’s neck, tilting his head to better angle the kiss. His free hand moves to the front of Yuuri’s chest, brushing lightly past his hard nipples. Yuuri shivers at the touch. 

Viktor pulls back just enough to ask, “are you cold?” 

Yuuri chases the kiss for a second before he laughs, lightly. “Maybe. Why don’t you warm me up?” And Viktor can’t help but laugh too; he hadn’t intended the question as a flirtation, but it was just as well. 

“I can do that,” he growls, pushing Yuuri back until he sinks onto the bed. “On your stomach, please,” he says. It’s not a request and Yuuri complies, positioning himself on all fours without a hitch. Viktor can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, a vision straight out of his wildest fantasies, but his blood is singing hot in his veins and his ears and ringing and this doesn’t feel like a dream; it’s too grounded and heavy, the way it never is when he’s dreaming. “You’re so gorgeous Yuuri, god,” he breathes, moving to his knees and palming Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri leans back into his touch. “How attached are you to the dress?” He asks, because he doesn’t want to ruin it if Yuuri loves it. 

“Only as attached as you are,” Yuuri replies, looking over his shoulder at Viktor in silent assent. They’ve done this thing of thing before, with lingerie and toys and even shoes, but this is the first time Viktor has ever seen Yuuri in a dress and he’s more attached to the _ idea _ of it, the vision in front of him, than he is to the dress itself.

He lifts the skirt up and drapes it on Yuuri’s waist so that it’s hanging down, revealing the backs of Yuuri’s thighs all the way up to his bare ass, and it’s so gorgeous that Viktor wants to bend down and _ bite _ it. And really, there’s no reason he shouldn’t, not when it’s right there, on offer for him.

He doesn’t bite very hard, but it still makes Yuuri squirm and exhale hard. “My little minx,” Viktor murmurs, “my darling heart.” 

“Do you like your wedding gift?” Yuuri asks, more arch than shy. Yuuri isn’t shy with him anymore, and Viktor considers that one of life’s greatest blessings. 

“Getting married to you is the gift. This is… god, Yuuri. I must be dreaming.” The truth costs him nothing, and the shiver that runs down Yuuri’s spine is priceless. 

“I’m glad you like it. I prepared myself for you,” Yuuri informs him, so sweetly that it takes Viktor a second to understand what he means, and when he does, he cannot physically stop himself from reaching down and sliding a finger into him. 

His finger slips in easily and he whines at the feel of Yuuri’s body, soft and slick and prepared for him. “I never believed in god, Yuuri,” Viktor swears, leaving the rest of the phrase incomplete. He doesn’t need to say it; Yuuri has heard this particular affirmation a hundred times before. _ Viktor never believed in god until he met Yuuri. _

Yuuri inches backwards, trying to pull more of Viktor’s finger into himself, but Viktor doesn’t let him. “Are you sure you’re ready?” He asks, getting off the bed as if to find more lube. 

Yuuri groans slightly and the noise covers the sound of Viktor undoing the front of his trousers, sliding his jeans down just far enough to free his cock. He strokes the shaft lightly, and there’s a little bit of precome to smooth the way, but not much. It throbs in his hand, eager. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, after all,” Viktor says gently, sinking back onto the bed. 

He can practically hear the pout in Yuuri’s voice when he replies. “You won’t, Vitya. I already said I’m ready, just trust me. Besides, I want to feel it, for a bit.” 

“Yuuri, darling, _ sweetheart_,” Viktor coos breathlessly, “you’re going to be the death of me.” 

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want you to die,” Yuuri teases, wriggling his hips in surprise when Viktor puts his cold hands on either side. “Shall I stop?” 

Viktor doesn’t dignify that with an answer, and instead lines up his cock and slides into Yuuri’s tight heat in one smooth push. Yuuri grunts and it’s such an ungraceful sound that it sends an instant hit of lust through Viktor’s veins, sizzling down his spine and making him thrust a little helplessly. 

Yuuri squeezes around him and Viktor can’t help but dig his fingers into the meat of Yuuri’s hips, shoving the white fabric further up his body to reveal skin. “May I?” He asks, gritting his teeth against the urges filling his body. 

“Oh,” Yuuri says breathily, “I’ve been waiting for you, Viktor. I’m ready,” he says, grinding his hips back until his ass is snug against the curve of Viktor’s hips. It’s as clear a signal as he could ever want, and he doesn’t hesitate. 

If Viktor had a list of favourite things, being Yuuri’s Friend-Boyfriend-Fiancé-Husband would be the first thing on it. Fucking Yuuri would tie with skating as a close second. 

The thing is, it’s not new. It’s not an adventure. They’ve done it so many times that Viktor probably knows Yuuri’s body almost as well as he knows his own. He can’t put a finger on it - and he’s tried - but there’s something incredible about knowing another body in this way. It’s as close as Viktor things he can get to heaven. 

Yuuri takes him beautifully, so easily it’s almost like he was made for Viktor’s dick. Viktor makes sure to fuck him good and hard, but carefully, so that even when the straps of the dress are sliding off Yuuri’s shoulders from the force of his thrusts, he’s still having fun. It’s easy, because they enjoy almost exactly the same things. Viktor keeps him occupied enough that Yuuri can’t even free his hand to reach down between his legs, even if the dress wasn’t in the way. That’s exactly the way Viktor wants it. 

It doesn’t take long for Viktor to come, not when everything is set up perfectly for him. He buries himself inside Yuuri when he finishes, blooming inside the tight heat and grinding himself a little deeper, as if to make a point. 

Yuuri is patient, but Viktor only gives himself a minute to come down, panting hard and sweating like a racehorse, before he draws out of Yuuri. Yuuri is shaking too, from his need, and it only takes a short push for Viktor to topple him into the bed, and turn him onto his back. Yuuri’s face is red and screwed up, and amidst the swathes of white fabric his cock is hard and red too. 

Viktor palms at it as he pushes Yuuri’s legs up and apart, unable to resist how obscene Yuuri looks; like something out of an adult magazine. Yuuri has already said he’s not so attached to the dress, so Viktor takes liberties, sheathing his cock in a handful of the silky material and stroking Yuuri through the fabric, making him whine and squirm into Viktor’s touch. Yuuri’s precome quickly soaks through the cloth and Viktor imagines another puddle forming beneath his ass, utterly ruining the dress (or their bedsheets).

Viktor squeezes again and Yuuri thrusts into his grip, so Viktor doesn’t hesitate. He ducks between Yuuri’s parted thighs and licks at the head of his cock delicately. Yuuri whines, and Viktor grins, letting Yuuri see it. Then he tugs the skirt over his head, so that Yuuri can’t see what he’s doing. Yuuri whines again, louder, and Viktor grazes his teeth lightly down the sides of his dick, making it twitch in his mouth. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri gasps, making it sound like a curse or an exclamation. Viktor just hums and bobs his head gently, swirling his tongue around the head of Yuuri’s cock and keeping everything nice and wet. “Viktor, seriously,” Yuuri says again, sounding a little bit desperate. 

Viktor pulls off with a little pop, and kisses Yuuri’s cock, just because he can. “Yes?” He asks, archly. 

“No more teasing, please,” Yuuri asks, and Viktor sighs as if he’s disappointed (even though he’s not), taking care to direct the flow of hot breath at Yuuri’s wet skin, making him shiver. 

“All right,” Viktor concedes and doesn’t even bite Yuuri’s thigh _ that _hard. Just hard enough to leave a ghost of a mark, to make the thick muscle twitch. He ignores Yuuri’s choked-off curses and nuzzles into Yuuri’s groin, breathing in his scent and his heat. “I love you, Yuuri,” he whispers, and takes Yuuri’s dick into his mouth without giving him a chance to respond. 

Yuuri responds beautifully, moaning and arching up into Viktor’s mouth, fists clenched tight in the skirt around his waist. Viktor makes love to Yuuri with his mouth like he does everything else that he loves; with skill and patience and precision. Sliding two fingers into Yuuri’s ass and pressing up against his sweet spot is more than enough to tip Yuuri over the edge, finishing in Viktor’s mouth. Viktor keeps him in his mouth until Yuuri is clean and mewling from sensitivity, before he draws back and pulls the skirt back down to cover Yuuri’s legs. He scrambles up to lie down next to Yuuri as quickly as he can while avoiding kneeing any important bits. His speed means that he can witness Yuuri’s orgasm face, with his eyes squeezed shut and his pulse throbbing furiously in the hollow of his neck. It’s one of his favourite Yuuri-faces. He kisses Yuuri’s throat before lying down next to his fiance and draping an arm across his waist. Yuuri doesn’t say anything, but leans into him with his eyes still shut. 

“Yura would say this makes me the wife,” Yuuri finally muses, when his heart has stopped pounding so hard and Viktor has started considering how he can make Yuuri come again, or whether it’s too soon. 

Viktor scoffs. “Yura is a giant child. You’re not my wife, you’re my _ husband_. And I’m your husband. We’re literally two men in a queer relationship, there is no wife.” 

Yuuri huffs at the vehemence of Viktor’s reply and also because he can imagine what Yura would say in response to that. “I know that, Viktor.” 

Viktor sighs, knowing that it’s really nothing to get worked up over. “You know I love you though, right?” 

Yuuri turns on his side so he’s facing Viktor. “I absolutely know that. And you know I love you, right?” 

Viktor nods, curling a hand around Yuuri’s jaw and stroking the damp ends of his hair. “And I also love the dress,” he adds, because it’s his opinion for what it’s worth, and Yuuri can decide what to do with it either way. 

“I know you do. But I think this one is pretty ruined. If we want to do this again, we’re going to have to get another one.” 

Viktor hums, considering the possibilities. “Well, if this one is already ruined, you wouldn’t be interested in riding me while wearing it, would you?” 

Yuuri pinches his ass and Viktor doesn’t even react. “Give me twenty minutes. I need a water break.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I admit the title comes from Avril Lavigne's cover of 'kiss me', but I'm just that person nowadays...
> 
> Send love pls <3


End file.
